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MEMORIAL 


THE     COMMEMORATION 


of  to     i 


OF  THE  FIFTIETH  BIRTH-DAY  OF  THEIR  PASTOR, 


JAMES   FREEMAN   CLARKE, 


APRIL  4,   1860. 


Cruci  incumbcns  pcrpetuo  vireng. 


BOSTON: 

I'REXTISS    &    DELANO.    PRINTER; 
1860. 


INTRODUCTION. 


On  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  March,  1860,  we  learned 
from  one  of  our  brethren,  that  the  fourth  of  April 
would  be  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  our  Pastor's  birth. 
It  was  proposed  that  we  should  avail  ourselves  of  the 
coming  occasion  to  express  unitedly  our  love  for  him, 
and  our  sense  of  the  benefit  and  happiness  derived  by 
us  from  our  mutual  relations.  There  was  a  quick  and 
glad  response,  and  at  a  meeting  on  the  twenty-seventh, 
a  committee  was  appointed  to  carry  into  effect  the 
desire  of  all  for  an  appropriate  commemoration. 

In  compliance  with  the  general  wish  that  a  Memorial 
of  our  Festival  should  be  prepared,  the  following  out- 
lines are  now  presented  —  the  records  of  an  evening 
which  left  us  little  to  regret  except  the  brief  time  for 
arrangements  and  the  small  size  of  the  rooms,  which 
made  it  imperative  to  restrict  our  invitations  to  the 
members  of  the  congregation. 


MEMORIAL. 


There  is  little  need  of  dwelling  upon  the  decora- 
tions, which  symbolized  our  thoughts  —  the  portraits 
of  Dr.  FREEMAN  and  Dr.  CHANGING,  in  whose  lives 
our  Pastor  was  so  happy  as  to  see  and  learn  the  power 
and  glory  of  the  Gospel  —  the  rich  abundance  of  ex- 
quisite flowers,  sent  by  kind  friends,  wh*  thus  gave 
appropriate  utterance  to  their  feelings  —  the  fragrant 
wreaths  of  evergreen,  and  the  ivy-twined  cross,  repre- 
sented in  the  vignette  upon  the  title-page,  against 
which  leaned  a  faithful  likeness  of  our  Pastor.  All 
these  are  doubtless  photographed  upon  the  memory-, 
yet  far  more  eloquent  than  all,  was  the  manifestation 
of  a  common  love  to  him,  beaming  from  all  eyes,  ae 
it  swelled  all  hearts. 

Notwithstanding  that  the   evening  was  chilly  and 

threatening,  by  half-past  seven  the  vestry  was  filled 
1* 


6  MEMORIAL. 

with  friends,  buoyant  with  pleasurable  expectation  and 
deep  interest,  gathered  to  receive  as  guests  the  Pastor 
and  his  family.  After  a  few  minutes  passed  in  affec- 
tionate welcome  by  the  hosts,  the  following  Greeting,* 
so  happily  expressive  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings, 
kindly  contributed  by  the  friend  and  class-mate  of 
our  Pastor,  Mr.  JAMES  H.  WILDER,  was  read  by 
Miss  LUCY  GODDARD,  and  the  interposed  responses 
were  sung  by  a  quartette  of  our  friends,  with  piano- 
forte accompaniment.  The  airs  selected  had  a  sweet 
and  touching  effect,  as  well  from  the  charm  of  the 
alternations  and  the  beauty  and  felicitous  adaptation 
of  the  music  to  the  words  and  spirit  of  the  responses, 
as  from  th*  thorough  appreciation  and  expression  of 

*  And  here  let  us  thank  our  friend  for  his  cordial  sympathy, 
which  induces  him  to  yield  his  final  consent  to  allow  us  to  print  his 
;-  crude  and  very  imperfect  string  of  rhymes,"  as  he  modestly  calls 
them,  "  written  in  haste,  amid  the  distractions  of  other  duties  and 
cares,  and  for  a  single  reading  only.''  Our  Memorial  would  indeed 
be  an  incomplete  record  without  them;  and  we  assure  him  that 
however  "  unsatisfactory  to  himself"  they  may  be,  we  are  all  greatly 
obliged  to  him  for  the  very  acceptable  form  in  which  he  gave  ex- 
pression to  the  feelings  with  which  our  own  hearts  were  overflowing. 
We  have  cheerfully  corrected  the  deviations  from  his  copy  which 
crept  into  the  printed  sheet  of  'Responses'  used  at  the  Festival. 
They  are  now  printed  as  they  were  written. 


MEMORIAL.  7 

them  by  the  singers.  The  last  two  were  sung  to  the 
air  of  Blendon,  by  the  whole  assembly,  and  every 
heart  was  borne  upward  by  the  melody,  as  it  swelled 
its  full  choral. 

Welcome,  dear  friends  —  thrice  welcome,  all 
Who  've  come  to  join  our  festive  cheer; 

To-night,  it  is  no  common  call 
That  bids  our  happy  gathering  here. 

No  labored  cheat,  misnamed  "  surprise," 

Is  here  prepared  for  curious  eyes ; 

The  market  basket  loaded  down 

Is  not  our  sign  of  duty  done. 

No  common  privilege  is  ours  — 
When  wisdom  waits  on  willing  ears, 

The  precious  fruit  of  mental  powers 
Matured  by  fifty  priceless  years  ; 

What  fitting  tribute  can  we  bring  ? 

How  shall  our  hearts  responsive  sing? 

[RESPONSE.]    Not  gifts  of  gold,  nor  gems  of  art, 

Nor  glittering  jewels'  glare, 
Can  speak  the  homage  of  the  heart, 
Or  show  the  love  we  bear. 


MEMORIAL. 

True  —  brothers,  sisters  —  't  is  not  thus 
We  'd  honor  Mm  to-night  our  guest  — 

And  her  —  Heaven's  gift  to  Mm  and  us, 
Our  sweet,  wise  friend —  "  Star  of  the  West :  " 

More  worthy  offering  would  we  pay  — 

No  empty  hearts  are  ours  this  day. 

For  that  tried  friend  whose  wealth  of  soul 

For  us  hath  been  so  freely  spent, 
Eternal  treasures  to  unroll  — 

Should  "  moth  and  rust"  our  hearts  content? 
The  fleeting  pleasures  of  an  hour 
The  sole  return  within  our  power  ? 

Our  offering  be  no  flitting  whim, 

Betokening  ties  that  Time  might  sever  — 
But  true  to  ourselves,  then  dear  to  him, 

A  beauty  and  "  a  joy  forever !  " 
Pledge  of  the  love  whose  glimmering  '  dawn '  * 
Made  glad  the  hour  when  he  was  born  — 
And  now,  with  full  effulgent  ray, 
Would  cheer  and  bless  his  life-long  day  ! 

*  In  allusion  to  the  charming  picture  presented  to  Mr.  Clarke  on 
this  occasion. 


MEMORIAL. 

[RESPONSE.]     If  grateful  hearts,  if  beaming  eyes, 

With  warm  affection  bright, 
If  such  the  gems  our  friend  might  prize, 
These  gifts  are  his  to-night. 

The  bended  knee,  the  censer's  flame, 

Not  prince  nor  priest  is  here  to  claim ; 

Nor  mitred  lord,  in  jeAvelled  vest, 

To  mock  the  lowly,  sorrowing  breast ; 

No  victor,  crowned  with  crimsoned  wreath, 

Demands  the  fawning  flatterer's  breath  : 

Such  service  is  not  ours  to  give, 

Nor  his  such  homage  to  receive ; 

"We,  cringing,  kiss  no  tyrant  rod 

Of  titled  saint,  or  demi-god ; 

We  come  to  render  tribute  true, 

A  loved  and  loving  brother's  due. 

The  first  dear  buds  of  opening  Spring, 
With  fragrant  incense  freely  given  — 

Earth's  living  censers  —  sweetly  swing, 
And  breathe  her  gratitude  to  Heaven. 

Her  earliest  offering,  and  her  best, 

The  modest  blossoms  on  her  breast, 


10  MEMORIAL. 

'  Be  such  the  types  that  humbly  tell 
The  joy  with  which  our  bosoms  swell.* 
Pomp's  gaudy  show  and  noisy  din 
Tell  oft  of  hollow  hearts  within ; 
The  voiceless  vow  the  violets  breathe 
Bespeaks  the  teeming  warmth  beneath. 
Let  fragrant  deeds  our  joy  attest, 
Deep-rooted  in  the  grateful  breast ; 
Not  lips  alone  —  our  lives  no  less  — 
Let  these  our  lasting  love  express  ! 
That  growth  which  knoweth  no  decay 
Mark  each  new  year,  each  '  dawn '  of  day. 

[RESPONSE.]     Our  incense  be  the  fervent  prayer, 

And  praise  the  crown  we  wreathe, 
In  garlands  fresh  as  angelffwear, 
And  pure  as  air  they  breathe. 

What  joy,  a  trusty  guide  to  know, 

• 
Whose  life's  full-fraught  experience 

Hath  streamed  on  us  in  ceaseless  flow 
With  rich  and  holy  influence ; 

*  Amid  the  profusion  of  evergreens  and  flowers,  whose  silent  lan- 
guage so  beautifully  told  the  sentiments  of  their  contributors,  none 
were  more  tenderly  and  touchingly  expressive  than  the  lowly  violets. 


MEMORIAL.  11 

As  if  it  gushed  from  Horeb's  rock, 
Time  may  not  drain  the  copious  stock ; 
Enlarging  as  it  lengthens,  ever 
Wider  and  deeper  runs  the  river ; 
And  filled  from  that  unfailing  store, 
Our  cup,  indeed,  is  "  running  o'er." 

Although,  "  with  long  experience  sage," 
That  head  shows  yet  no  frosts  of  age  ! 
A  soul  still  young  in  holy  zeal, 
A  heart  still  warm  for  others'  weal, 
Ready  alike  our  joys  to  share, 
Or  balm  to  wounded  spirits  bear  — 
These  yet  for  us  their  sendee  lend, 
And  blessings  bring,  no  time  can  end. 

Their  store  of  happy  memories 

These  fifty  years  have  gathered  up ; 
Yet  cares  and  fears,  and  sorrow's  tears 

Have  mingled  in  the  life- wrought  cup  — 
The  cup  the  Father  fills  above, 
In  love  bestowed,  received  hi  love  — 
And  poured  as  free,  our  wants  to  meet, 
As  the  ointment  on  the  Saviour's  feet. 


12  MEMORIAL. 

[RESPONSE.]     Let  all  the  joys  the  past  hath  known 

Still  brighten  o'er  his  road  ; 
Years  but  increase  his  love  to  man. 
Confirm  his  trust  in  God. 

And  though,  on  duty's  wide  domain, 

Our  wandering  shepherd  sometimes  stray, 

We  '11  trust  to  win  him  back  again, 
And  gladly  cry  '  God  speed  his  way ! ' 

At  others'  call  where'er  he  roam, 

He 's  sure  to  hear  a  '  welcome  home.' 

The  shepherd's  voice  well  know  the  sheep, 
And  snugly  in  his  fold  we  '11  keep  — 
Content  to  know  that,  far  or  near, 
His  guardian  eye  is  on  us  here ; 
Secure  beneath  that  light  of  love, 
Which,  beaming  bright  from  heaven  above, 
Perpetual  day  shall  round  us  spread, 
Perpetual  peace  within  shall  shed. 

And  here  that  joy  complete  we  '11  prove, 
Heart  bound  to  heart  in  mutual  love  ; 


MEMORIAL.  13 

Communion  with  that  spirit  share, 
Which  long  hath  made  our  peace  its  care. 
Oh !  God  be  praised,  whose  grace  hath  given 
A  guide  so  true,  to  lead  to  Heaven ! 
Again  —  again  —  prolong  the  strain  — 
Let  all  repeat  the  glad  Amen  ! 

[RESPONSE.]  Great  Fount  of  Love !  from  whom  proceed 
All  blessings  men  or  angels  need  — 
On  him  whose  birth  hath  been  our  joy, 
Father !  thy  tenderest  care  employ ! 

Thy  loving  Spirit  on  him  pour, 
Thy  Peace  be  with  him  evermore ; 
In  faith  as  firm  as  the  Ages'  Rock, 
God  bless  the  shepherd  and  the  flock ! 


After  an  interval  spent  in  social  conversation,  the 
joyous  hum  of  voices  was  stilled  by  the  recognized 
signal,  and  a  beautiful  Trio  was  sung  by  three  ladies 

of  the  church,  and  then,  in  a  yet  more  profound  hush 
2 


14  MEMORIAL. 

of  attention,  these  lines  were  read  to  us  by  their  author. 
Mrs.  JULIA  WARD  HOWE.  Any  words  of  ours  would 
only  mar  the  emotions  reawakened  by  their  perusal. 
The  silence  which  attended  and  followed  them,  is  most 
fitting  here  also. 

A  weight  I  bear,  and  a  task  I  share, 

Of  glad  and  generous  sympathy. 
These  loving  hearts  have  all  their  parts, 

In  the  spring-song  I  must  echo  thee. 

Each  eloquent  soul  would  keep  control 

Of  the  Poet's  slender  gift  of  words, 
As  an  instrument  that  should  give  consent 

To  the  waiting  music  of  many  birds. 

But  the  wings  of  love  that  bear  above, 
Shall  help  me  to  bring  my  burthen  near  ,- 

And  my  stammering  tongue,  leaving  half  unsung. 
Can  tell  how  we  prize  thee,  Master  dear. 

For  these  fifty  years  we  thank  with  tears 
The  tender  hand  that  hath  counted  them  ; 

And  we  thank  again  for  those  that  remain 
Still  veiled  in  God's  unseen  diadem. 


MEMORIAL.  15 

The  roses  flung,  and  the  incense  swung, 

Are  for  youth's  bright  matins  and  manhood's  prime ; 
But  the  tapers  are  lit  for  the  patient  feet 

That  follow  the  pensive  vesper  chime. 

Within  thy  fold,  safe  as  of  old, 
Still  gather  us  each  bright  Sabbath  morn ; 

Call  home  thy  sheep,  that  wander  and  weep, 
Comfort  the  weary  and  briar- worn. 

That  years  a  score  may  sweep  us  o'er, 
Walking  yet  serene  the  heavenward  way, 

A  loving  band,  that  the  Shepherd's  hand 
Brings  near  the  bounds  of  the  brighter  day. 

Till  transfigured  quite,  in  its  holy  light, 

We  hear,  still  clinging  close  to  thee  : 
'  Father,  I  come  to  my  heavenly  home, 

With  the  children  thou  hast  given  me.' 


16  MEMORIAL. 

Another  exquisite  Trio,  ('Lift  up  thine  eyes,')  from 
the  Oratorio  of  Elijah,  followed,  and  at  its  close  our 
brother  GEORGE  WM.  BOND  read  a  letter  from  Rev. 
JOHN  T.  SARGENT,  filled  with  fraternal  sympathy,  of 
which  our  limits  allow  us  to  give  only  a  portion. 

To  the  "Church  of  the  Disciples." 

DEAR  FRIENDS  : 

A  very  friendly  and  affectionate  note  from  your 
Pastor,  invites  me  to  meet  with  you,  at  your  vestry,  this 
evening,  in  commemoration  of  the  interesting  fact  that 
he  is  fifty  years  old !  and  most  sincerely  do  I  regret 
that  I  am  officially  under  constraint  to  be  elsewhere. 
Being  but  two  years  the  senior  of  your  Pastor,  I  can 
well  remember  when  his  hair  which  ought  now  to  be 
growing  grey  somewhat,  hung  all  over  Ms  shoulders  in 
golden  ringlets.  A  very  "  promising  boy,"  of  course, 
he  was,  giving  early  forecast  of  his  subsequent  influ- 
ence as  a  promising  Pastor.  You  may  well  suppose 
that,  mingling,  as  we  did,  in  the  same  familiar  associa- 
tions from  our  early  days,  worshipping  for  so  many 
years  in  the  same  old  church  of  "King's  Chapel," 
where  his  own  venerable  and  endeared  grandfather, 


MEMORIAL.  17 

JAMES  FREEMAN,  that  precious  old  patriarch  of  Unita- 
rianism,  baptized  us  both ;  schooled  as  we  were  together 
in  the  same  city ;  and  graduating,  afterwards,  from  the 
same  college,  within  two  years  of  each  other,  I  can 
very  heartily  share  the  fond  sympathies  and  benedic- 
tions that  are  clustering  around  him  this  evening. 

Thank  God  he  still  lives  and  works,  and  is  blessed 
with  such  a  harvest  of  success  as  few  others  in  the 
profession  have  realized. 

Out  of  the  twenty  Unitarian  societies  now  existing  or 
represented  by  pastors  in  this  city,  there  are  but  five  of 
those  pastors  who  are  professionally  Ms  seniors ;  fifteen 
of  those  churches  have  changed  their  pastoral  relations 
by  death  or  otherwise;  and  even  your  church  has 
known  something  of  those  vicissitudes  incident  to 
change  of  place.  Ritchie  Hall,  Amory  Hall,  Masonic 
Temple,  Freeman  Place  Chapel,  "Williams  Hall," 
"  Indiana  Place,"  have  all  witnessed  to  the  repeated 
pilgrimages  and  the  ineradicable  practical  power  of 
what  the  "Autocrat  and  Professor  of  the  Breakfast 
Table"  so  appropriately  calls  the  "Church  of  the  Gal- 
ileans," where,  in  the  words  of  that  same  Professor, 
"the  good  people  seem,  perhaps,  a  little  easy  with 

each  other,  and  meet  very  much  as  a  family  does  for 
2* 


18  MEMORIAL. 

its  devotions,  not  putting  off  their  humanity  in  the 
least  —  considering  it,  on  the  whole,  quite  a  cheerful 
matter  to  come  together  for  prayer,  and  song,  and 
good  counsel  from  kind  and  wise  lips." 

May  this  genial  element  of  your  organization,  my 
friends,  always  abide,  and  so,  indeed,  all  the  other  con- 
stituents of  your  association  that  make  it  so  truly  the 
•'  Church  of  the  Disciples,"  till  the  kingdoms  of  this 
world  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ.  In  the  bonds  of  Christian  love  and 
friendship, 

I  am  very  sincerely  and  respectfully  yours, 

JOHN  T.   SARGENT. 


The  allusion  in  Mr.  SARGENT'S  letter  called  forward 
Dr.  O.  W.  HOLMES,  who  read  to  us  the  following 
charming  tribute  to  Ms  friend,  classmate,  and  pastor  of 
the  "Church  of  the  Galileans,"  a  welcome  and  grateful 
impulse  of  his  own  regard. 


MEMORIAL.  19 

Here,  likewise,  thought  and  silence  alone  are  fitting. 
We  can  only  record  our  thanks  to  the  author,  and 
place  his  offering  among  our  treasures  for  future  and 
constant  enjoyment. 

Who  is  the  shepherd  sent  to  lead 

Through  pastures  green,  the  Master's  sheep  ? 
What  guileless  "Israelite  indeed" 

The  folded  flock  may  watch  and  keep  ? 

He  who  with  manliest  spirit  joins 
The  heart  of  gentlest  human  mould, 

With  burning  light  and  girded  loins, 
To  guide  the  flock,  or  watch  the  fold. 

True  to  all  Truth  the  world  denies, 
Not  tongue-tied  for  its  gilded  sin, 
Not  always  right  in  all  men's  eyes, 

But  faithful  to  the  light  within ; 
t 

Who  asks  no  meed  of  earthly  fame, 
Who  knows  no  earthly  master's  call, 

Who  hopes  for  man,  through  guilt  and  shame, 
Still  answering,  "  God  is  over  all ; " 


20  M  E  M  O  K  I  A  L  . 

Who  makes  another's  grief  Ms  own, 
Whose  smile  lends  joy  a  double  cheer ; 

Where  lives  the  saint,  if  such  be  known  ?  — 
Speak  softly  —  such  an  one  is  here !  * 

O  faithful  shepherd !  thou  hast  borne 
The  heat  and  burden  of  the  day ; 

Yet,  o'er  thee,  bright  with  beams  unshorn, 
The  sun  still  shows  thine  onward  way. 

To  thee  our  fragrant  love  we  bring, 
In  buds  that  April  half  displays, 

Sweet  first-born  angels  of  the  spring, 
Caught  in  their  opening  hymn  of  praise. 

What  though  our  faltering  accents  fail, 

Our  captives  know  their  message  well, 
Our  words  unbreathed  their  lips  exhale, 

And  sigh  more  love  than  ours  can  tell. 

» 

*  Here  the  poet  laid  his  hand  playfully  on  Mr.  C.'s  shoulder. 


MEMORIAL.  21 

The  hum  of  pleasure,  which  followed,  was  interrupted 
by  a  summons  to  the  cheerful  supper  table,  where  a  half 
hour  was  pleasantly  spent  in  social  communion. 

On  returning  to  the  other  apartment,  all  eyes  were 
attracted  to  a  beautiful  picture,  hung  between  the  por- 
traits before  mentioned,  now  unveiled  for  the  first  time. 
It  represents  DAWN  IN  TUSCANY,  and  was  painted  by 
the  only  sister  of  our  Pastor,  and  on  that  account, 
as  well  as  because  he  had  been  heard  to  express  great 
admiration  of  its  excellence,  seemed  to  us  a  fitting 
memorial  of  this  occasion.  "A  little  history"  belongs 
to  this  picture,  which  we  will  presently  give  in  the 
words  of  the  artist. 

Our  Pastor  and  his  family,  returning  from  the  re- 
freshment room  among  the  last,  recognized  the 
picture,  and  supposed  it  had  been  lent  us  as  an  orna- 
ment for  the  evening,  until  he  read  in  the  eyes  of  his 
people  that  it  was  their  gift  to  himself,  when  his  wish 
to  speak  to  us  collectively,  appeared  to  culminate,  and 
he  addressed  us  in  the  following  words,  as  nearly  as 
he  can  recollect. 

I  feel  very  awkward  just  now.  This  is  a  situa- 
tion I  do  not  quite  understand.  The  position  of  a 


22  MEMORIAL. 

guest,  invited  by  the  church  to  a  party,  is  an  un- 
usual one  for  me.  Excuse  me  if  I  do  not  know  what 
to  say,  and  if  I  make  a  very  stupid  reply  to  all  your 
kindness. 

I  do  not  see  how  I  have  deserved  all  this.  There  is 
no  great  merit  in  being  fifty  years  old  —  at  least,  if 
there  were  any  at  first,  it  has  become  so  common  a 
thing  that  the  originality  of  it  has  all  gone. 

Tell  me  why  it  is  that  we  should  be  sorry  that  we 
are  growing  old  ?  It  seems  conceded  that  we  fire  to 
be  slightly  commiserated,  not  congratulated  at  being 
fifty.  People  say  kindly  that  we  look  very  young  to 
be  fifty  years  old  —  they  think  to  please  us  by  suggest- 
ing youthfulness.  But  why  not  be  glad  that  we  are 
fifty  ?  If  to  live  is  to  think,  to  feel,  to  act,  then  why 
not  be  glad  that  we  have  thought  much  and  done 
much  ? 

If  we  gain  something  of  experience  every  year,  then 
why  not  be  glad  that  we  have  garnered  up  fifty  years 
of  experience? 

I  suppose  one  reason  is,  that  every  man's  life  is  a 
failure.  No  one  succeeds  as  he  expected  to  succeed. 
Those  whom  all  men  admire  and  envy,  commiserate 
themselves.  An  English  poetess  has  said  that  one  is 


M  E  M  O  R  I  A  L  .  23 

depressed  by  praise,  because  it  reminds  us  of  how 
many  better  and  greater  things  we  have  tried  to  do 
and  failed  in  accomplishing.  She  says  that  when  a 
hero,  a  poet,  or  a  sage  is  applauded  for  any  great  work 
or  word  he  inwardly  sighs,  because 

"His  noblest  deed  had  once  another 

Of  high  imagination  born, 
A  loftier  and  an  elder  brother, 

From  dear  existence  torn, 
Who,  lost  to  man's  approving  sight, 
Has  vanished  in  the  shades  of  night." 

As  we  grow  old,  we  are  apt  to  look  backward  on  the 
past  which  is  gone,  instead  of  forward  to  the  future 
which  is  yet  to  come.  "We  forget  the  tilings  which  are 
before,  and  look  back  to  those  behind.  But  the  power 
of  the  Gospel  which  abolishes  death,  and  shows  us  that 
death  is  nothing,  can  also  abolish  old  age,  by  filling  us 
with  a  hope  never  tired  of  looking  forward,  and  there- 
fore full  of  immortal  youth.  You  have  hung  on  these 
walls  on  either  side  of  me,  the  portraits  of  two  men, 
neither  of  whom  ever  grew  old.  DR.  FREEMAN  was 
kept  young  by  his  benevolent  and  unselfish  heart,  which 


24  MEMORIAL. 

held  him  in  full  sympathy  with  the  young,  the  ardent, 
the  active,  and  so  made  Mm  abreast  with  the  most  ad- 
vancing wave  of  life,  even  in  his  seventieth  year.  And 
DR.  CHANNING  was  kept  always  young  by  his  earnest 
faith  in  Progress,  and  interest  in  all  that  was  living,  as- 
piring, advancing.  I  thank  you  for  hanging  these  two 
portraits  on  the  walls,  the  features  of  those  who  have 
made  my  past  life  rich  —  my  teachers  and  masters. 
I  count  it  one  of  my  cliief  blessings  to  have  known  in 
childhood.  Dr.  FREEMAN  ;  for  I  saw  in  Mm  the  reality 
of  Christianity  —  I  saw  a  man  really  unselfish,  living  a 
generous  life,  making  it  Ms  meat  and  drink  to  help  and 
bless  others.  In  him  was  no  small  self-seeking  —  all 
was  large,  pure,  and  noble.  And  so  I  was  preserved 
from  all  danger  of  skepticism  in  regard  to  the  substance 
of  Christianity.  All  criticisms  of  the  letter,  all  doubts 
concerning  the  history,  all  difficulties  in  the  form  of  the 
Gospels,  failed  to  touch  for  a  moment  the  great  reality 
of  a  divinely  human  life  in  Christ  Jesus.  And  so,  too. 
I  bless  God  for  having  let  me  know  so  intimately  Dr. 
CHAINING  ;  for  I  saw  in  him  one  whose  great  reputation 
was  forgotten  in  the  superior  greatness  of  the  man 
himself.  The  thoughts  which  had  electrified  the  world, 
were  but  a  few  of  the  multitude  of  ideas  which  made 


MEMORIAL.  25 

the  soul  of  this  great  man  luminous  as  the  sun.  And 
to  him  these  thoughts  were  realities,  the  only  realities 
which  he  knew.  The  reputation  and  fame  they  brought 
to  him  were  nothing.  Like  Moses,  coming  down  from 
the  Mount,  he  had  been  talking  with  God,  but  knew 
not  himself  that  his  face  shone  with  such  an  ineffable 
glory ;  for  his  mind  was  full  of  God,  not  of  himself. 

As  I  look  back  on  these  fifty  years,  life  seems  to  me 
very  rich  and  full.     I  think  of  the  companions  of  my 
youth,  my  college  friends,  of  that  dear  and  noble  friend 
of  my  early  days,  who  perished  amid  the  ocean  roar,  on 
Fire  Island  —  of  the  generous  and  kind  hearts  among 
whom  I  lived  so  many  years  in  Kentucky,  —  of  the 
friends  in  New  York,  in  Pennsylvania,  in  Illinois,  in 
Wisconsin,  in  Ohio,  in  Missouri,  in  half  the  States  of 
the  Union  —  of  those  who  have  gone  to  God,  HENRI- 
WAKE,     EPHRAIM    PEABODY,     JAMES    H.    PERKINS, 
GEORGE  KEATS,    JOHN   SPEED,    and   so   many  more 
whom  I   see   in  imperfect  visions  of  the   night,   and 
gladly  hope  to  see  more  clearly  on  that  sacred  shore 
beyond.    And  I  think  gratefully  of  the  years  passed 
in  your  society  and  service,  of  the  perfect  and  un- 
changing confidence  between  us,  of  our  sky  for  twenty 
years  undimmed  even  by  a  passing  cloud,  of  all  your 
3 


26  MEMORIAL. 

long-suffering,  forbearance,  and  kindness.  Between 
us  there  has  always  been  truth  —  holy  truth. 

Our  church  has  not  been  a  large,  fashionable,  or 
popular  one,  but  I  think  it  has  done  good.  Not  as 
much  as  we  might  have  done,'  but  still,  some  good. 
Those  who  have  once  belonged  to  us,  usually  belong  to 
us  wherever  they  are.  The  outward  tie  is  very  feeble, 
but  the  inward  tie  strong.  We  are  founded  on  Jesus 
Christ  himself,  not  any  theory  or  doctrine  concerning 
him,  nor  on  any  ceremony  or  ritual.  We  welcome 
among  us  all  who  desire  to  cooperate  with  us  in  the 
study  and  practice  of  Christianity.  This  basis  of  union 
seems  to  me,  more  and  more,  the  truly  scriptural,  solid, 
broad,  and  deep  foundation  for  a  Christian  church. 

To-night,  I  feel  myself  wholly  at  home.  God  has 
given  me  home  within  home.  He  gave  me,  in  my  first 
home,  a  mother,  sister,  brothers,  who  have  been  with 
me,  through  life,  a  constant  source  of  comfort  and 
strength. 

Then,  around  that  home,  He  built  for  me  another 
home  of  friendship,  and  around  that,  still  another  home, 
in  this  Christian  Church ;  so  that  I  am  very  rich  in 
homes.  And  when  into  the  most  intimate  home  of  all, 
the  solemn  angel  of  death  once  entered,  taking  our 


MEMORIAL.  27 

first-born  into  an  upper  world,  the  separation,  though 
painful,  was  softened  to  us  by  a  s^nse  of  the  good 
Father's  love,  which  kept  our  hearts  in  his  perfect 
peace.  And  your  sympathy,  in  that  hour,  and  in  all 
our  hours  of  trial,  has  been  to  us  an  unfailing  support, 
for  which  I  now  can  only  say  —  God  bless  you  all, 
dear  friends,  brethren  and  sisters  —  God  bless  you. 

[Remarks  added  Easter  Sunday,  April  8.] 

Last  Wednesday  evening,  in  the  perfect  arrangement 
of  our  Festival,  you  gave  me  a  picture  of  the  Dawn,  for 
which,  in  my  surprise,  I  forgot  to  thank  you. 

A  picture  of  the  Dawn  —  is  not  that  a  gift  more  suit- 
able to  the  morning  of  life  than  to  the  turning  point, 
where  the  sun  is  declining  toward  its  setting?  So  I 
thought  at  first,  but  presently  remembered  that  every 
sunset  is  also  a  sunrise  —  that  while  the  sun  is  going 
down  here,  it  is  going  up  there,  and  that  it  depends 
which  way  you  are  looking,  whether  you  see  it  as  sun- 
set or  sunrise.  If  I  am  looking  backward,  at  the  fifty 
years  passed  by,  then  it  is  sunset  •  but  if  I  am  looking 
forward  at  the  fifty  years  now  beginning,  then  it  is  sun- 
rise. And  such  surroundings  of  affection,  of  genial 


28  MEMORIAL. 

sympathy,  of  insight,  of  foresight,  awaken  hope,  and 
make  an  auroral ^.nd  morning  atmosphere  in  the  heart. 
So  I  thank  you  for  the  sweet  and  beautiful  gift,  feeling 
it  to  be  a  symbol  well  belonging  to  this  season  of  hope 
—  when  Nature,  in  her  swelling  buds,  unites  with  man 
in  Easter  celebrations,  declaring  throughout  earth,  air, 
and  wave,  that  God  keeps  his  promise  to  his  children, 
given  them  in  their  longings  to  possess  life,  and  to  pos- 
sess it  more  abundantly.  All  things  are  aurora  to  the 
hopeful  soul ;  all  scenes,  all  events,  all  changes.  Lu- 
cifer, star  of  the  morning,  bears  his  torch  ever  before 
the  faithful  heart.  A  new  day  is  ever  rushing  up  in 
waves  of  light  and  music  from  below  the  eastern  hori- 
zon. I  am  not  bidding  farewell  to  the  fifty  years  past, 
but  rather  welcoming  the  next  fifty  years  now  begin- 
ning. Let  us  trust  that  they  will  be  better  for  all  of 
us  than  the  past ;  and  at  their  close,  when  most  of  us 
shall  shake  hands  together  in  the  higher  state,  let  us 
trust  that  we  shall  find  ourselves  still  ready  to  look 
forward  to  the  tilings  before,  filled  with  new  expecta- 
tions, starting  on  new  work,  filled  with  new  insight, 
and  warmed  with  larger  and  purer  love  to  God,  and 
to  all  his  creatures. 


MEMORIAL.  29 

Our  friend  and  brother,  JOHN  ALBION  ANDREW, 
replied  for  us  as  follows  —  happily  expressing  in  his 
unpremeditated  remarks,  the  thoughts  and  feelings 
which  arose  from  all  our  hearts,  and  trembled  on  our 
lips,  as  we  listened  to  the  words  of  our  Pastor. 

I  have  been  asked,  brethren  and  sisters,  to  attempt 
the  expression  of  that  which  is,  in  truth,  inexpressible 
—  the  affectionate  respect  of  this  congregation  of  Dis- 
ciples of  Christianity,  towards  him,  who,  as  our  Pastor, 
and  as  the  guest  of  this  festivity,  is  the  central  figure  of 
our  group.     After  the  manner  of  my  own  simple  and 
unpoetic  phrase,  let  me  speak  from  the  deep  conviction 
of  my  own  mind,  and  the  emotions  of  my  own  heart,  of 
the  worth  of  this  Christian  Home  to  us  who  have  en- 
joyed its  shelter,  and  of  the  guidance,  and  help,  and 
consolation  we  have  received  from  him,  who  has  given 
direction  to  its  character,  and  led  its  ministrations.     I 
confess,  for  myself,  that  I  do  not  know  how  I  could 
over-estimate  the  influence  of  this  Home  of  the  Soul, 
on  the  happiness  and  welfare  of  my  life.     Amid  all  dis- 
tractions, and  griefs,  and  bewilderments,  I  have  seen 
the  vision  of  this  temple,  and  heard  its  calm  voice  and 
hopeful  wisdom,  encouraging,  winning,  teaching,  and 
3* 


30  MEMORIAL. 

strengthening  the  love  of  the  best  goodness  and  the 
highest  truth ;  nor  would  I  dare  omit  to  bear  my  wit- 
ness to  how  much  I  have  here  learned  of  their  recon- 
ciling power. 

In  the  haste  of  life,  we  forget  the  rapidity  of  its 
march ;  and  I  suppose  you  will  hardly  realize  that  now 
twenty  years  have  almost  fled  away,  since  our  Pastor, 
then  but  three-fifths  of  his  present  age,  began  to  preach 
to  us  in  Ritchie  Hall.  Two-thirds  of  all  the  years  of 
his  manhood  have  been  surrendered  to  this  church  of 
ours ;  and  during  all  the  years  of  my  own  manhood,  I 
have  shared  in  its  membership,  and,  when  not  absent 
from  Boston,  have  partaken  at  its  feasts.  I  thought  it 
was  but  yesterday  we  began  to  gather  in  this  fold,  until 
just  now  I  was  reminded  that  a  young  man  before  me, 
now  in  the  opening  bloom  of  his  manly  age,  was  born 
after  this  church  was  organized,  and  was  the  first 
infant  who  received  baptism  at  its  altar. 

Twenty  years  of  earnest,  active,  most  devoted,  and 
various  labor  here,  as  a  preacher,  pastor,  writer,  and 
citizen,  —  interrupted  only  by  the  exigencies  of  his  own 
health,  and  of  that  of  his  family  —  have  identified 
JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE  not  only  with  this  single  or- 
ganization, but  also  with  the  Unitarian  body  itself;  with 


MEMORIAL.  31 

the  ideas,  progress,  history,  and  character  of  liberal 
Christianity ;  and  when  I  heard  him,  just  now,  regret 
the  past,  passing  severe  judgment  upon  himself,  as  if 
he  "  had  not  attained,"  under-estimating  what  is  a  part 
of  history, — in  view  of  the  loftiness  of  his  ideal,  —  I 
wished  that  I  could  but  only  make  him  feel  how  price- 
less is  the  good  my  own  heart  confesses  that  it  owes 
to  him,  and  how  many  there  are  who  would  join 
with  me  in  the  confession.  Indeed  this  human  life  is 
all  too  short  to  allow  the  indulgence  of  vain  regrets. 
And  when  the  sense  of  weakness,  or  of  guilt  and  sin 
overbears  the  weary  head  and  heart,  I  can  but  remem- 
ber the  trusting  and  triumphant  joy  of  the  Apostle,  who 
would  leave  all  the  things  which  were  behind,  and 
press  onward  to  those  which  are  before,  and  run  with 
patience  the  allotted  race. 

During  these  twenty  years  of  our  existence  as  a  body 
of  friends  and  learners  in  the  Master's  school,  how 
many  of  our  number  have  passed  beyond  the  veil ;  how 
many  there  are  whose  precious  memories  revisit  us  to- 
night, softening,  tempering,  and  beatifying  this  festive 
and  commemorative  hour  —  but  whose  visible  presence 
we  may  not  see.  And  what  a  ministry  —  what  a  work 
is  that,  whose  privilege  and  office  it  is,  to  lead  with 


32  MEMORIAL. 

gentle  hand,  the  children  of  a  flock,  to  bear  witness  of 
the  truth  in  the  ears,  both  of  the  willing  and  the  per- 
verse, to  soften  the  hard  heart,  to  bow  the  stubborn 
will,  to  edify,  to  comfort,  to  guide  immortal  men,  "in 
all  the  trials  of  life  and  in  the  work  of  duty,"  consoling 
bereavement  and  inspiring  faith,  and  throwing  the 
arches  of  hope  and  of  memory  over  the  very  Jordan 
of  Death. 

Let  us  not  forget  to-night  to  do  justice  to  the  influ- 
ence of  such  a  ministry,  for  so  considerable  a  period  of 
one  man's  life,  touching  also  the  number  and  variety 
of  those  it  has  reached.  Remember  how  many  in  all 
quarters  of  the  world  there  are,  who,  at  one  time  and 
another,  have  sat  side  by  side  with  us  in  the  house  of 
our  worship ;  and  how  fondly  the  absent  are  wont 
to  return  with  hearts  untravelled  to  this  Christian 
Home. 

Nor  would  I  forget  the  ample  satisfactions  which  ac- 
company the  mind,  as  it  travels  over  the  broader  field, 
cultivated  by  one  of  a  catholic  spirit,  and  no  pent-up 
sympathies.  We  all  know  how  closely  allied  in  labor, 
as  in  spirit,  our  Pastor  has  been  with  the  grand  move- 
ments which  have  signalized  the  history  of  the  last 
quarter  of  a  century.  How  thankful  it  makes  the 


MEMORIAL.  33 

heart  to  find  its  human  lot  cast  in  such  an  age  —  such 
an  age  of  freedom  of  thought  and  action ;  such  an 
age  of  hopefulness.  I  will  not  stay  to  lament  over 
its  follies,  its  failures,  or  its  reverses.  I  see  in  them 
all,  only  the  limitations  of  men  ;  while  through  them 
all  I  also  see  "the  steady  gain  of  man." 

I  desire  to  render  due  thanks  and  due  honor  to  him 
who  has  guided  and  helped  our  thought  and  our  activ- 
ity, that,  in  all  the  vicissitudes  of  twenty  years,  against 
all  temptations,  and  under  all  allurements  of  tempo- 
rizing policy,  he  has  kept  this  pulpit  free,  this  church 
free,  its  creed  as  comprehensive  as  the  formulary  of 
the  first  Apostles ;  its  spirit  of  brotherhood  as  expan- 
sive as  the  charity  of  the  Christian  Faith.  Nor  had 
this  been  possible,  save  to  a  man  who  saw  too  wide  a 
field,  too  great  a  harvest,  a  world  too  broad,  and  a 
humanity  too  precious,  either  for  delays,  for  jealousies, 
or  for  strifes ;  too  much  to  be  done,  too  many  ways 
for  doing  good,  too  little  difference  in  the  values  of 
methods,  to  permit  the  waste  of  strength  and  time  in 
questioning  the  diversity  of  the  manifestation  of  the 
same  spirit. 

But  this  is  no  occasion  for  formality  or  lengthened 
speech,  and  my  voice  must  no  longer  interrupt  the 


34  MEMORIAL. 

current  of  more  social  and  informal  flows  of  thought 
and  feeling.  Let  us  remember  with  joy  and  gratitude, 
the  great  goodness  which  has  brought  us  all  to  this 
day ;  and  let  us  fervently  pray  that  He,  who  has  kept 
our  Pastor  and  our  church,  will  preserve  him  and  his 
beloved  ones  in  happiness  and  health,  until  in  the 
quiet  sleep  of  ripe  old  age.  he  pass  from  the  conflict 
to  the  crown. 


The  impulse  to  identify  ourselves  with  the  speaker, 
and  to  add  our  voices  to  his  own,  was  profound  in  its 
electric  stir  through  our  body  —  finding  audible  utter- 
ance from  some  in  a  "  glad  amen." 

A  double  quartette,  full  of  grace  and  beauty,  fol- 
lowed, and  when  the  last  tones  had  died  away,  and  all 
united  in  singing  the  following  hymn,  (contributed  by 
our  friend  and  brother,  B.  P.  WIXSLOAV,)  the  noble 
air  of  "America"  poured  forth  its  grand  harmonies 
with  a  fulness  and  depth,  well  illustrating  the  capa- 
bilities of  congregational  singing,  and  our  emotions, 


MEMORIAL.  35 

infusing  their  own  life  and  power  into  the  words, 
transfigured  them  into  an  earnest  prayer  for  our 
Pastor,  and  a  grateful  thanksgiving  to  our  common 
Father  for  the  blessings  of  his  ministrations. 

O  Thou,  whose  blessed  Son  — 
His  earthly  mission  done  — 

His  chosen  gave 
In  thy  great  love  to  wait, 
Thy  grace  to  mediate, 
And  souls  in  low  estate 

To  seek  and  save  ; 

On  this  our  guide  and  friend 
The  Comforter  descend. 

Thy  Spirit  fill 
His  heart  with  holy  fire, 
Thy  Truth  his  words  inspire, 
Kindling  our  faint  desire 

To  do  thy  will, 

Let  nought  of  worldly  gain, 

Sharp  grief  or  toiling  brain 

Close  our  dull  ear ; 


3G  M  E  M  O  R  I  A  L  . 

"  But  his  free  earnest  speech  " 
Grant  Thou  all  souls  to  reach, 
And  to  the  erring  teach 
The  SAVIOUR  near. 

For  him  we  ask  not  fame, 

No  world-wide  —  honored  name, 

But  thine  increase ; 
And  as  the  autumn  leaves 
Fall  on  his  gathered  sheaves, 
Thou  whom  his  faith  receives 

Give  him  thy  peace. 

So,  when  full  years  have  shed 
Upon  his  hoary  head 

The  saintly  sign, 
This  his  glad  hymn  shall  be  — 
'  Father,  I  bring  to  Thee 
Those  Thou  hast  given  me  — 

All,  all  are  thine.' 


MEMORIAL.  37 

After  a  further  interchange  of  congratulations  at 
our  happiness  in  being  permitted  thus  to  rejoice 
together,  all  slowly  and  reluctantly  dispersed,  to 
cherish  the  remembrance  of  this  Festival,  and,  we 
trust,  to  develop  its  influence  in  more  true  and  earnest 
lives  —  a  boon  and  blessing  precious  to  our  Pastor 
beyond  all  else  we  can  offer. 


The  selection  of  airs  for  the  responses  in  the  wel- 
coming poem  was  so  appropriate,  and  the  effect  of  the 
alternations  so  beautiful,  that  we  must  record  them 
for  future  use.  They  were  as  follows:  "Hussitan 
Chant,"  "NewPatmos,"  " Eckhardtsheim,"  and  "Mi- 
letus," all  from  Zeuner's  "Ancient  Lyre." 


ADDENDA. 


We  add  this  note  from  one  of  our  number  as  a 
pleasant  expression  of  the  feeling  of  our  whole  body. 

MARCH  27,  1860. 
FRIEXD  WINSLOW  : 

My  engagements  are  such  as  to  prevent  my 
attending  the  meeting  this  evening ;  so  I  authorize 
you  to  vote  for  me,  knowing  as  I  do  that  you  will  not 
"  make"  Mr.  CLARKE  "the  recipient  of"  a  gold-headed 
cane,  nor  a  service  of  silver,  nor  an  elaborately  carved 
trumpet  to  blow  on  the  walls  of  Zion  —  but  that  you 
will  vote  simply  to  give  him  some  token  of  our  sympa- 
thy and  devoted  love. 

It  seems  but  a  few  days  since  we  were  talking  over 
the  subject  of  his  leaving  our  society ;  *  how  clearly  it 

*  Referring  to  a  call  received  by  Mr.  CLARKE  from  a  neighboring 
city. 


40  ADDENDA. 

has  been  shown  us  since,  that  he  had  work  to  do  here, 
at  home,  in  our  church  and  city.  If  any  expression 
of  feeling  goes  with  the  gift  selected  for  him,  let  this 
thought,  I  pray  you,  be  suggested  :  for  I,  for  one. 
desire  to  have  him  know  how  deep  and  sincere  is  our 
appreciation  of  his  labors  here,  in  Boston,  in  the  great 
centre  of  Unitarianism. 

Very  truly,  yours, 

HENRY  WILLIAMS. 


DAWN     IN     TUSCANY. 


[This  little  history  of  the  charming  picture  is  from  the  pen  of  the 
Artist.] 

It  was  on  the  sixteenth  of  June,  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  that  I  entered  the  diligence,  at  Borne,  to 
go  to  Florence,  by  the  Siena  road.  Summer  was  at 
high  tide,  earth  and  sky  consented  in  beauty  ineffable, 
and  when  night  fell  over  the  earth,  the  transparent 
darkness  was  welcome  after  the  long  and  brilliant 
summer's  day.  Then  from  the  Coupe  I  saw  the  new 
morning  break,  and  the  Italian  dawn  marshal  its 
forces  of  light  and  shade.  The  light,  while  yet  the 
earth  was  dark,  streamed  from  behind  a  mountain, 
a  million  golden  arrows  shot  up  into  the  retreating 
darkness,  and  from  the  bosom  of  the  mountain  shadow 
flowed  a  river,  rough  with  stones,  which  broke  the 

light  caught  upon  its  reaches,  and  animated  the  low- 

4* 


42  ADDENDA. 

toned  picture.  I  made  a  memorandum  in  my  sketch- 
book of  this  strikingly  poetical  scene,  and  a  dialogue 
held  with  an  Italian  by  my  side,  became  fixed  in  my 
memory,  and  always  goes  with  the  picture  in  my 
mind.  He  asked  me  later  in  the  day,  with  the  cu- 
riosity which  belongs  to  travellers  of  all  nations, 
whether  I  was  English. 

"  Signor,  no,  sono  Americana." 

"  Possibile ! "  with  gestures  of  wonder. 

i(E  tanto  distante,  dal  suo  paese ! "  with  gestures 
of  more  wonder. 

i(E  va  sempre  sola  la  Signora?"  and  now  the 
countenance  of  the  querist  expressed  curiosity,  doubt, 
respect,  suspicion,  and  fear  of  giving  offence,  wonder- 
fully mingled  in  a  heavy  face  which  I  had  thought 
particularly  incapable  of  expression. 

"  Si,  perche  sono  artista,  Signore,"  I  replied,  offer- 
ing my  profession  as  a  reason  for  voyaging  without 
attendant,  and  as  a  guaranty  of  my  respectability. 
"Ah!  si,"  —  said  he,  quite  relieved,  "Lavidi  questa 
mattina,  quando  Lei  dipingeva  PAurora." 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass,  that  flattered  by  his 
phrase  which  described  my  poor  scratches  in  the 
dark,  as  "painting  the  Aurora,"  I  resolved  really  to 


ADDENDA.  43 

paint  my  memory  of  a  scene  which  so  deeply  affected 
my  imagination,  and  it  gratifies  me  much,  that  the 
picture  is  liked  and  has  come  to  preferment  among 
my  good  friends.  I  began  this  little  history  of  the 
picture  with  the  intention  of  telling  the  name  of  the 
place  represented.  The  name  of  the  mountain  I  do 
not  know  —  the  river  is  probably  the  Ombrone,  and  the 
place,  a  spot  somewhere  between  Radicofani,  which 
I  passed  at  midnight,  and  Siena,  where  I  arrived  at 
ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon.  So  I  named  it,  DAWN  IN 
TUSCANY. 


HYMN    AND    PRAYER. 


To  those  of  us  familiar  with  the  following  poem, 
written  by  our  Pastor,  it  came  home  at  this  time 
with  the  force  of  fulfilled  prophecy ;  and  while  it  dwelt 
in  the  hearts  of  many,  failed  to  make  a  part  of  the 
festive  utterances  of  the  evening  of  the  4th  of  April, 
only  from  the  hurry  of  our  arrangements. 

A  friend  and  sister  thus  expresses  her  feeling  in  a 
note  to  one  of  our  number. 

"The  poem  has  been  a  life-long  friend  to  me. 
Even  when  he  (Mr.  CLARKE)  was  laboring  at  the 
West,  and  growing  into  a  stately  elm,  many  a  flagging 
good  purpose  was  strengthened  by  the  determination 
never  to  cast  a  "Upas-shade"  over  those  in  my  care, 
while  one  so  favored  had  obtained  all  that  he  prayed 
for,  and  escaped  all  that  he  feared.  And  then  what 


ADDENDA.  45 

a  check  upon  angry  correction,   even  of  the   vilest 
faults,  is  that  vivid  picture  of  Christ,  who 

"  With  eyes  of  love  looked  into  eyes  of  hate." 

When  I  begin  to  think  what  I  value  Mr.  CLARKE'S 
ministry  for,  this  poem  is  apt  to  come  up  first,  as 
his  earliest,  perhaps  most  potent  help ;  therefore  if  it 
could  be  printed  in  the  notes  at  the  end  of  the  festival 
records,  some  young  beginners  in  the  Christian  life 
might  adopt  it,  as  has  been  done  by  others  in  former 
years. 

Yours, 

LOUISA    C.    BOND. 

Infinite  Spirit !  who  art  round  us  ever, 
In  whom  we  float,  as  motes  in  summer  sky, 

May  neither  life,  nor  death  the  sweet  bond  sever, 
Which  joins  us  to  our  unseen  Friend  on  high. 

Unseen  —  yet  not  unfelt  —  if  any  thought 
Has  raised  our  mind  from  earth,  or  pure  desire, 

Or  generous  act,  or  noble  purpose  brought, 
It  is  thy  breath,  0  Lord,  which  fans  the  fire. 


46  ADDENDA. 

To  me,  the  meanest  of  thy  creatures,  kneeling, 
Conscious  of  weakness,  ignorance,  sin,  and  shame, 

Give  such  a  force  of  holy  thought  and  feeling, 
That  I  may  live  to  glorify  thy  name. 

That  I  may  conquer  base  desire  and  passion, 
That  I  may  rise  o'er  selfish  thought  and  will, 

O'ercome  the  world's  allurement,  threat,  and  fashion. 
Walk  humbly,  softly,  leaning  on  Thee  still. 

I  am  unworthy,  yet  for  their  dear  sake 
I  ask,  whose  roots  planted  in  me  are  found, 

For  precious  vines  are  propped  by  rudest  stake, 
And  heavenly  roses  fed  in  darkest  ground ; 

Beneath  my  leaves,  though  early  fallen  and  faded. 
Young  plants  are  warmed,  they  drink  my  branches' 
dew; 

Let  them  not,  Lord,  by  me  be  Upas-shaded ; 

Make  me  for  their  sake  firm,  and  pure,  and  true. 

For  their  sake  too,  the  faithful,  wise,  and  bold, 
Whose  generous  love  has  been  my  pride  and  stay, 

Those,  who  have  found  in  me  some  trace  of  gold. 
For  their  sake  purify  my  lead  and  clay. 


ADDENDA.  47 

And  let  not  all  the  pains  and  toil  be  wasted, 
Spent  on  my  youth  by  saints  now  gone  to  rest, 

Nor  that  deep  sorrow  my  Redeemer  tasted, 
When  on  his  soul  the  guilt  of  man  was  prest. 

Tender  and  sensitive  he  braved  the  storm, 

That  we  might  fly  a  well  deserved  fate, 
Poured  out  his  soul  in  supplication  warm, 

With  eyes  of  love  looked  into  eyes  of  hate. 

Let  all  this  goodness  by  my  mind  be  seen, 
Let  all  this  mercy  on  my  heart  be  sealed, 

Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thy  power  can  make  me  clean, 
0,  speak  the  word,— thy  servant  shall  be  healed. 


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